It is an interesting phenomenon how many people use to ask me if we were having a second child. I don’t mean friends in the course of conversations about life. No, I mean people I barely considered acquaintances. I always used to think to myself, what if we had been trying for the last four years and it just wasn’t happening for us? Wouldn’t that be such an uncomfortable answer? And if that were the case, what if I wasn’t sharing that so instead I had to make up some excuse for why we were putting it off. I know people don’t mean to be intrusive, but inquiring about family planning by nature ends up being intrusive. I can only imagine what people who just don’t want kids go through.
For us, having another child was wrapped in so much emotion. We don’t have the luxury of looking back on pregnancy with happy thoughts. The outcome was happy, but getting there? Not so much.
Now that I am 22 weeks into this second pregnancy, I find I’m still holding my breathe every doctors appointment I go to. 22 weeks is when we found out that Ben wasn’t growing. We didn’t yet know why, but we knew something was wrong. Tomorrow I go for an anatomy scan that will tell us if this baby is growing at the rate expected. We already had one at 18 weeks and everything looked normal but that doesn’t mean I won’t still be anxious until I hear the results.